


High Platinum

by rhyzza



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, gay slurs (joke), like they both know it's a joke and they're gay lol, that's why it's mature i dunno, they're playing overwatch, this is the worst i hate my friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:42:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyzza/pseuds/rhyzza
Summary: Michael Mell, having little to no things to occupy his life, plays Overwatch under the alias of the Lúcio main Mell. Jeremy Heere happens to have the same problem and solution, only his D.Va main self goes by Heere. (It's their last names if you couldn't tell.) What happens when these two have multiple run-ins in competitive matches?





	1. Enjoy Bronze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wishes he wasn't placed with a stupid furry D.Va main.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have seen people sorry for their works but I mean it take me off this website this is the worst thing i've ever done

The repetitive slamming heard throughout the Mell household was not caused by a construction of any kind, rather by an impatient occupant of its vicinity. Michael Mell, said frustrated occupant, was banging his head on his computer table, swearing this was the longest time he'd ever waited for an Overwatch queue to find a game. (It wasn't, but he was a fool and turned off Skirmish.) Ironically, there was someone not too far away from the Mell household currently in a Skirmish, trying and failing to make friends with an unforgiving Widowmaker. His name was Jeremy Heere, and he just wanted a single good lootbox. ("Just one Legendary!" he'd cry after seeing his fifth icon-filled box of the day.) Even so, it never occurred to one that the other existed, and it really would have made a nice life for the two. Of course, though, everyone knows competitive play is after our souls.

"Really? A D.Va main?" Michael muttered. He'd just had about enough shitty tanks for for the day, and he wasn't giving this "Heere" the benefit of the doubt, no matter how many hours spent on the hero. Nonetheless, he doesn't look twice selecting Lúcio before another healer tries to steal his main spot. Ninety-something-and-counting hours on the guy can make you kind of a judgemental person when it comes to people's Lúcio skills. He fucking hated Hanamura, but he was going for Platinum and no D.Va-playing twink was going to crash his party.

"A freaking Lúcio? On Hanamura? Think again, man," Jeremy snorted. Maybe he was good, but he just had this natural distrust of the guy. I mean come on, a Lúcio on Hanamura attack? "This Mell guy better be good or I'm uninstalling Overwatch," he says to his buddy Jake in the group voice channel before switching to listen to his entire team.

"Heere you better be a good D.Va or I'll fucking pee on you, fag," said a voice Jeremy could now put to the name Mell. He typed out a response before Mell could even think of another intimidation tactic:  
-  
[Heere]: don't freaking swear I'm 7!!

Now, Michael could either assume this is a joke to make him seem stupid, or that Heere was genuinely a seven-year-old child. Probably the latter, but he guessed this time he'd just let the twink live:  
-  
[Mell]: don't disappoint me you gay piece of shit

The response was scarily immediate:  
-  
[Heere]: how can i be gay when i did ur mom last nite lol

Michael drew the fucking line there. That was some serious gamer smack-talking. He aught to kill the little shit. Or maybe claw-wait no-punch him in his gay face. He typed:  
-  
[Mell]: why arent u on voice u dumbass furry

The response: a loud, high-pitched and muffled "I am in voice, dingus!" by Heere, caused by his microphone likely being in his mouth as he yelled the words. Michael almost had a heart attack.

"If you do that to me again I'm throwing. Enjoy bronze pussy," Michael said, with his microphone now basically in his mouth.

"Good luck finding a better tank, dummy," Heere teased.

So that's how it's gonna go. Alright, Heere. Be ready.


	2. Silver, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heere and Mell prove their respective worths. Kind of.

_So that's how it's gonna be. Alright, Heere. Be ready._

Oh, Jeremy _was_ ready. He had successfully been a contributor to the team's victory (and, as he liked to add, stolen a Play of the Game from a very frustrated Mell). He finally had some hope for playing competitive. (Jake did too. Playing Mercy seemed to be working for him.)  
  
"Gotta hand it to ya, Jer," Jake said in a mock-impressed tone, "I guess you really _are_ a D.Va main twink." This comment earned a disgruntled noise of shock from Jeremy, followed by a frustrated: "I'm blocking you, why are we even friends."  
  
"Holy fucking piss-sticks, Jer," Jake muttered, catching his breath from all the laughing he'd been doing at Jeremy's response.  
  
Jeremy sighed loudly and dramatically into his microphone (the dramatization ability brought to you by Christine Canigula, actress extraordinaire). "What is it now, Dillinger? You're killing me here. Go and play your sports or something you fricking loser."  
Before Jake could utter a response to that, a loud "Aw, fuck!" reverberated through his headset. He made a mental note to get his ears checked.  
  
"Dude, this is the dumbass D.Va main I just told you about. The one that stole my play?" Mell explained.  
  
Jake gasped audibly, and for a moment Jeremy thought he was going to defend his friend. "Oh thank goodness I thought i was the only one who called him a dumbass."  
  
"Jake!" Jeremy screeched.  
  
"It's fine, D.Va dude, your buddy Jake here probably just doesn't appreciate furries," a new voice suggested, one that Jeremy could put to the name "Rich."  
  
"I didn't come to play with a fricking rude Symmetra main, Rich!" Jeremy shot back, looking through Rich's career profile.  
  
"Shut up! My ping is bad! I used to main Genji," Rich pouted, to Jeremy's delight.  


"Richard, you're a dingus," Michael sighed.  
  
The game started with arguments and petty little insults, and ended like that too, but what can one expect? The boys were losers.  


Now, little known fact: Jeremy Heere gets annoyed. Very easily. He actually did not get mad at his new "acquaintances," more the picks of the teams the foursome played against. (You know the ones. Bastion, Symmetra, Torbjörn...) In other words, Jeremy was done with this shit. After spewing a few "curse words," Jeremy said his goodbyes and swore he'd never play that game again. With a frustrated sigh not unlike that of a sore loser, he flopped down onto his bed and hugged his Pancham plushie to his chest, drifting into a sad gamer's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i had like 99% of this done and im like how do i end this chapter fuck literature amirite


End file.
